


Plump

by DisposalUnit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Ice Cream, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, No smut just buildup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6989977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisposalUnit/pseuds/DisposalUnit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John likes Harold to be a little on the pudgy side. Ice cream does the trick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plump

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a crew-member's tweet about Michael Emerson eating 10 ice cream cones while filming that scene in "B.S.O.D."

John examined the remainder of the ice cream cone—just a slightly-soggy, inch-long, pointed tip—and looked down at the man he’d tied to a chair. “One more bite to go.”

Harold opened his mouth again with a sigh and allowed John to pop the morsel in. He chewed slowly then swallowed.

“Good,” John whispered happily as he stroked his fingers across Harold’s cheek. His hand then slipped down beneath the older man’s slate gray vest and over his rounded belly, pressing it softly through the high-end, lavender shirt. Months of stress and far too many hours of work had left Harold leaner than John liked, but these feeding sessions were working wonders. “Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.” Harold took several sips from the water bottle John held to his mouth, and licked his lips clean.

John went to the freezer and took out the gallon of ice cream, once again.

Harold stifled a burp and wriggled his wrists and ankles in their soft rope bonds, which held his limbs, comfortably, against the chair’s armrests and legs. He was getting bored, not to mention burned-out on ice cream. “I’m really very full, right now.”

“Are you safewording?” Concerned, John left the ice cream carton on the counter and went to kneel in front of Harold, so that he could better see his face. “Give me a color.”

At first Harold wanted to say ‘yellow,’ but upon reflection he realized that eating more wouldn’t really make his stomach _uncomfortable_. The melted ice cream seemed to be passing through his belly fairly quickly. John was enjoying himself so much that it seemed wrong to stop, when the bulk of Harold’s reluctance was merely due to boredom. This was certainly something he could endure for John’s pleasure.

“...Green. But, please just give me a few minutes before we start on another cone. My mouth is starting to get numb from the cold.”

John grinned and pressed his mouth to Harold’s, his tongue slowly tracing around his captive’s lips, tasting the sticky sweetness that remained on his face after so much ice cream. “I’ll help you warm up.”

This help was gladly accepted by Harold, who welcomed John’s hot tongue into his own chilled mouth and moaned with an appetite that ice cream could never fill.

“Better?” John asked after several minutes of amorous necking.

Harold nodded slightly, his lips now pink and slightly swollen, his glasses askew. John couldn’t help but chuckle—Finch seemed almost drunk, or stuffed, with the passion of John’s attentions.

  “Another sea salt and caramel ice cream cone, it is.” John stood and went back to the container of now-softened ice cream.

Harold groaned amiably, content to indulge John and his newfound kink. “How many have I eaten so far?”

  “That was number nine.” John scooped yet another massive blob of creamy deliciousness onto yet another crunchy sugar-type cone. “This is number ten.”  

Harold groaned a little less amiably. “How many you plan on feeding me today?”

“Forty.”

Harold rolled his eyes at the obviously-facetious number. _Forty_ cones. That was many more than Harold could possibly eat in one sitting. The very idea was terribly silly.

John snickered at Harold’s reaction. “Okay, this should probably be the last one. I can’t get enough of watching you do this, but I’ll have mercy.”  

Finch beamed and made a slow, sensuous lick to the ice cream John held in front of him.

“You’re getting so nice and plump,” John murmured, again stroking Harold’s belly with his free hand. “I can’t wait to take you to bed and snuggle you.”  

Another lick and Harold smacked his lips. “And more, I hope.”

“ _Much more_ than snuggling,” John assured him. “We started with dessert, but this feast will keep us occupied for the rest of the day.”

Harold blinked. “I hope you’re using the word ‘feast’ in the figurative sense.”

“For you, yes. For me, no.” Reese waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll bet you taste just like ice cream, by now.”

Finch, blushing, took another lick.

**Author's Note:**

> (A tip of the hat to anyone who picked up on the Easter egg.)


End file.
